


tell you truth, but never goodbye

by tintedglasses



Series: Take Your Winterhawk to Work Day AU [6]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Deaf Clint Barton, Established Relationship, Friendship, M/M, Memorial Day, Minor Character Death, Minor Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Panic Attacks, Past Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prosthesis, and all the associated feelings that might go with it, military trauma, more heartfelt conversations!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24383371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tintedglasses/pseuds/tintedglasses
Summary: “Hey, babe. You okay in there?” he asks Bucky.Bucky tamps down the urge to automatically say ‘yes’; they’ve been talking in his group about today all month and how it’s okay not to be fine and that acknowledging the not-fine might even make the day a little less shitty. Not completely non-shitty because it’s Memorial Day, a day centered around loss and grief, so of course it will always be some degree of shitty, but less shitty nonetheless.But he’s here, he thinks to himself as he looks around Steve’s yard. He’s here, and he’s surrounded by his friends, and he’s with the person he loves. A lot of people don’t get that, but by some miracle, Bucky does.So, yeah, it’s still a shitty day, but it’s much better than it could be.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Take Your Winterhawk to Work Day AU [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1358812
Comments: 20
Kudos: 112





	tell you truth, but never goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> it's still memorial day somewhere in the US, so i achieved my goal of finishing this today. this probably won't make a whole lot of sense unless you've read the other fics, but feel free to give it a go anyways!

Clint climbs his way onto the picnic table seat, his soft curse as he bumps his knee against the wooden brace breaking Bucky out of his thoughts. Clint nudges him lightly once he’s settled, a small smile on his lips but something more intent in his eyes.

“Hey, babe. You okay in there?” he asks Bucky. 

Bucky tamps down the urge to automatically say ‘yes’; they’ve been talking in his group about today all month and how it’s okay not to be fine and that acknowledging the not-fine might even make the day a little less shitty. Not completely non-shitty because it’s Memorial Day, a day centered around loss and grief, so of course it will always be some degree of shitty, but less shitty nonetheless. 

But he’s here, he thinks to himself as he looks around Steve’s yard. He’s here, and he’s surrounded by his friends, and he’s with the person he loves. A lot of people don’t get that, but by some miracle, Bucky does.

So, yeah, it’s still a shitty day, but it’s much better than it could be.

“I’m doing okay,” he says finally, and it feels honest. 

Clint drops a kiss to his shoulder, but the look behind his eyes still hasn’t cleared. Bucky looks over and sees Steve watching them, chewing on his lip in a classic sign that he’s holding himself back from mother-henning Bucky.

Bucky looks back over at Clint, who still seems to be thinking about something. He doesn’t say anything, so Bucky asks, “Did Steve send you over here to check on me? I saw you two over there talking.”

There’s a little curl of anxiety in the pit of his stomach at the idea that they were talking about him. He’s mostly used to people worrying about him at this point, but it still makes him uncomfortable sometimes.

“No?” Clint says and Bucky feels his face scrunch in confusion at the fact that Clint says it like it’s a question. “Well, he didn’t specifically send me over here, so no. But he did say something that made me want to come over, so yes?”

Bucky glances at Steve again, who has shifted his attention back to the grill. He’s got a hunch to his shoulders that looks suspiciously like guilt, which does nothing to quell the anxiety in Bucky’s gut. 

Steve’s met Clint a few times now, and after he got over his initial wary, overprotective best friend bit, Bucky didn’t think he had anything to worry about. But now he wonders what Steve could have said to have made him feel guilty; that self-righteous son-of-a-bitch, god love him, never feels guilty this quickly unless he feels like he’s done something really wrong.

Clint’s picking at the wood of the picnic table absent-mindedly when Bucky meets his gaze again. He’s watching Bucky like he’s looking for something and it’s a bit unnerving.

“What’d Steve say?” Bucky says, quieter than he had been meaning to.

“I don’t really know honestly. We were talking a little bit about when he first got back from overseas and stuff, and then he was talking about the first Memorial Day that you were both back and he said it was really hard for you because of Danny.”

Bucky sucks in air between his teeth, his body tensing at the name. The anxiety in his stomach multiplies, tinged at the edges with a cold, dark grief.

“Hey, hey, breathe,” he hears Clint say. He doesn’t know when he closed his eyes, but he must have at some point because they’re closed now. His chest feels tight, like he’s being crushed, and the dirt beneath his bare feet almost feels like sand. 

He hears footsteps and then Steve, his voice a little shaky with panic, saying, “Bucky?”

“It’s okay, man,” Clint says, as Bucky curls his fingers around the bench in an attempt to ground himself. “Just give us a minute, please.”

It takes a moment but Bucky hears Steve retreating, and some of the tension in Bucky’s shoulders loosens. He squeezes the bench hard a few times, letting his muscles tighten and release repeatedly, a little more relaxed after each cycle. HIs breath steadies as he focuses on the sounds around him, the sounds that say that he’s in Brooklyn and not in a desert somewhere, bleeding half to death.

Eventually he opens his eyes which cues Clint to reach out and hold his hand, gently unfurling it from around the bench before taking it in his grasp.

Bucky doesn’t look over to where Steve is because he can feel Steve fretting from where he is and it only makes him more nervous. Instead, he studies Clint’s face, trying to figure out what Clint knows. 

“What did he tell you about---” he cuts himself off, swallowing hard around the name he can’t force out.

“Nothing,” Clint says, his voice steady and calm. “He was going to say more I think, but I told him not to. I told him that I didn’t know who that was and that I thought that maybe that was something you and I should talk about first, and then he started looking like he kicked someone’s puppy or something.”

Bucky almost wishes that Steve would have told Clint so that Bucky never had to, but he knows that these kinds of things don’t work like that. It’s his story to tell, so it’s only right that he should be the one to tell it.

“And I should have known from his reaction that this was a difficult topic and I shouldn’t have brought it up now,” Clint continues, and now _he_ looks like he kicked someone’s puppy. “So I’m really sorry for that. I wish I hadn’t put you in that situation.”

“It’s okay,” Bucky says, blowing out a breath. He can see Clint opening his mouth to contradict him, so he adds, “It’s really okay. It sucks, yeah, but I know you didn’t know that would happen. That you wouldn’t have asked if you thought I’d react like that.”

Clint doesn’t seem completely satisfied with that but seems unwilling to argue further about Bucky’s own feelings with him.

“And I guess Steve just figured we had talked about it already which...I’ve wanted to for a long time. I just have trouble getting the words out.”

“Hey, no pressure. We can talk about it whenever you’re ready,” Clint says earnestly and Bucky can feel that he truly means that. “Even if it’s not til we’re like 80. There’s no rush at all.”

Warmth floods Bucky’s chest at the easy way Clint says things like that, like it’s a given that they’ll be together that long. “I won’t wait til we’re 80,” Bucky promises. “But I don’t want to talk about it right now, if that’s okay.”

Clint kisses Bucky’s cheek. “Completely okay. You need me to run interference with Steve? He may be jacked, but I think I could maybe take him with a cheapshot to the knee.”

Bucky laughs. “No, I don’t need you to take out his kneecap. I’ve been dealing with that punk for years, I’m pretty sure I can handle him on my own.”

Clint climbs up from the table and winks at Bucky. “In that case, I’m going to go get some food and get out of here before that conversation starts, which should be in about 30 seconds based on his current level of hovering.”

He jokingly mouths ‘wait, save me’ to Clint just to hear him laugh as he walks away. A year ago, he never could have imagined laughing and joking right after a panic attack, but Clint always makes everything feel so much easier than it used to. He closes his eyes and revels in the feeling as he waits for Steve to lose his battle with his patience. 

Sure enough, it only takes about 30 seconds before the bench is dipping down under Steve’s weight. 

Bucky tilts his head over to look at him and smiles wryly. “Hey, punk.”

“Bucky, I’m so sorry,” Steve blurts out, twisting the fabric of his shorts between his fingers. “I didn’t know, but I still shouldn’t have---”

“It’s fine, Steve,” Bucky says, not wanting Steve to wallow in his own misery any longer than necessary. “I know you didn’t know.”

“You were doing so well today and then I just ruined it---”

“Hey,” Bucky says, trying to push down the irritation that flares up sharply. “I’m still doing well today. Nothing is ruined because I had a panic attack.”

Steve’s fingers are still and his eyes are wide at Bucky’s tone. “Of course not. I didn’t mean that.”

“I know. I know.” Bucky closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to relax again. His voice as he says, “Sorry, I’m just a bit on edge. But I need you to hear me when I say that this really isn’t a big deal, okay? You didn’t know that Clint didn’t know, and Clint’s not going to push me about it until I’m ready, so it’s all fine.”

Bucky can tell that Steve is yearning to apologize again or check in one more time, but he mercifully just nods. Maybe all of the talks Bucky has had with him about boundaries and space are finally starting to pay off. 

He does have a slight pout going, though, but that’s to be expected. “Okay, Buck. I’m...I’m glad you’re fine.”

Bucky sighs internally. Steve may be a little overbearing, but Bucky loves him and he knows he wouldn’t ever ask for a different friend, probably partly because he also knows Steve wouldn’t ever ask for a different best friend either. They’re stuck with one another. 

“C’mere,” he says. “Let me give you a hug.”

Steve looks immensely grateful for the offer, wrapping Bucky up in a bear hug and tucking his face into Bucky’s neck. Bucky uses his prosthesis to pet Steve’s hair, careful not to snag any strands in the metal. Steve doesn’t say anything but Bucky can hear the _I’m glad you’re here_ anyways. 

Steve pulls back after a few long moments, reaching up to fix his hair where Bucky has mussed it up.

“I see what you’re doing,” Bucky says. 

Steve furrows his brow, his hands pausing in his hair. “What?”

Bucky smiles at him slyly. “Fixing your hair all up because Nat’s going to be here soon.”

He laughs as Steve’s face goes beet red. He swats at Bucky’s shoulder, even though Bucky can see that he’s relieved that Bucky is moving them past their conversation. “Shut up.”

“I think your face might actually be as red as her hair.”

Steve stands up, trying to look indignant, but Bucky can tell he’s holding back laughter. “You know what, I can see that you’re fine now, so I’m going to go over by Sam. He won’t ridicule me like this.”

“He just does it behind your back,” Bucky calls after him. He chuckles as Steves flips him off without looking back.

Clint plops back down next to Bucky, sliding a plate over to him. He gives Clint a quick kiss for his efforts. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Clint just waves him off, face already stuffed with potato salad.

***

They make it through the rest of the barbeque with no major hiccups, except when Steve spills his beer on Nat’s shirt after an over-enthusiastic wave of his arms, which she handles gracefully and he does not.

Steve’s embarrassment seems to have died enough to be able to sit next to her as they settle in for the fireworks, though, and Bucky and Clint have made a five dollar bet on whether he’ll put his arm around her shoulder or not.

Bucky secretly thinks it’s kind of stupied that Memorial Day is celebrated with fireworks, as it’s an obvious trigger for a lot of people who have been in combat, but luckily it’s not a trigger for him personally. He’s especially grateful for that this year, because that means he can focus on Clint---even without his hearing aids in, Bucky knows that the boom of the fireworks in your chest feels a lot like standing too close to a gun. 

Clint looks unbothered for now, though, sipping at his beer from his spot next to Bucky on their blanket. He looks over at Bucky and gives him a little grin, lifting his hand up to sign _I love you_.

Bucky leans in and steals a kiss, and the flash behind his eyelids gives a brief warning before the boom of the first firework hits.

He pulls back to look at Clint to make sure he’s okay and Clint lets him look. Satisfied that he’s fine, Bucky leans in for another quick kiss and then pulls back so Clint can watch the display. The colors dance across Clint’s face, sinking into the hollows of his cheekbones, stubble casting faint shadows on his skin. He tilts his head back to take another drink from his beer, his jawline lit up in reds and purples and greens. He’s beautiful.

Bucky almost wants to live in this moment forever, but the moment doesn’t last long. It’s as if it curls at the edges, peeling back to reveal a different moment in time. Another explosion. Another beautiful boy. 

He doesn’t try to fight the lump in his throat or push back the memory. He lets himself sit right in the juxtaposition of it all, the beauty and the horror all wrapped up in one. He’s been working on acceptance a lot in therapy these days, learning how to make all the parts of his lives fit, even if he wishes some parts would go away.

He reaches up to rub at his eye and Clint looks over at him, the wonder in his eyes fading into a solemn understanding. Clint can’t know what Bucky’s thinking exactly, but he knows _Bucky_. Bucky has never been known by anyone the way Clint knows him, and it makes him want to give Clint everything. 

Bucky may not have been ready earlier, but he’s ready now. He wants to give Clint another piece of himself, to let Clint help carry the weight of it.

He pulls out his phone and starts typing, nudging Clint and jerking his head towards the fireworks when Clint gives him a confused look. Clint obliges, looking back up to the sky, but not shifting so that their thighs press together gently. 

It takes Bucky a few minutes to figure out what he wants to write, but he can’t help thinking that it’s easier like this, not having to say the words aloud. Instead, he can get them all out in one fell swoop, over and done with. It feels safer here, too, under the dark night sky.

When he finishes, he hands the phone to Clint, open to the note he just wrote. It isn’t everything that he could say and it isn’t the most well written, but it’s enough. 

Clint reads that first line and looks up at Bucky, his face overcome with sadness even though he doesn’t look particularly surprised. Bucky waves him back towards the phone, wanting him to get through it all before they have to say anything.

Shifting the phone to his other hand, Clint reaches out to grab Bucky’s hand. It’s the prosthesis, so Bucky can’t feel him squeeze it, but he knows that he does. Bucky leans over to rest his shoulder against Clint’s, feeling the warmth of him as they read the note together.

_Danny was in my unit and I was in love with him. I must have a type because he was a little shit sometimes, stealing my MREs and tying my boot laces together, but he also had a soft heart, just like you. He enlisted right out of high school and he saw a lot of shit, but you’d never know it unless he let you._

If Bucky closed his eyes, he could still picture Danny’s smile, bright against his dust covered face and a little lopsided, not unlike Bucky’s favorite Clint-grin.

_I was having a hard time, just really sick of being over there and not really knowing what the point of any of it was, when we ended up on the same unit. He was so good at getting me out of my head and helping me have hope again. He was from Brooklyn, too, and we would make all these plans about getting a little apartment together when we got out, where we could be together and not have to worry about anyone knowing._

Bucky doesn’t know if they could have lasted when they come back, but he thinks about their stolen kisses and how much he wishes they could have at least had a shot at having so much more than that. 

He doesn’t read the next part, but he can’t help thinking the words again anyways.

 _He was in the Humvee with me when it exploded._ Clint presses his thigh firmly against Bucky’s at that. _I lost consciousness for a little bit after the initial explosion, so I don’t know if he died on impact, but by the time I woke up, he was already gone. And that was the last time I saw him._

Clint puts the phone on Bucky’s lap before pulling him into a tight hug. Bucky clings against him, feeling his tears drip onto Clint’s neck as the reverberations from the fireworks echo in their chests. 

Clint pulls back, cupping Bucky’s face in his hands and wiping his tears with his thumbs. “I love you so much,” he says, his voice slightly tonal, and Bucky signs it back. 

He turns his head to kiss Clint’s palm before leaning back so he can type something else. He hands his phone to Clint when he’s done, letting him read it.

_I didn’t want the first time I said I love you to be when we were over there, so I never told him. I thought about that a lot when I was waiting for someone to come rescue the rest of us. That it was too late and I never got to say it._

Clint looks up at Bucky, his eyes glistening in the glow of the fireworks. “He knew. Sweetheart, of course he knew.”

Bucky presses his lips together, feeling them shake as he nods at Clint. _Thank you_ , he mouths. He doesn’t know what he’s thanking him for exactly, but he feels so very grateful for Clint in this moment. 

Clint holds him close, letting Bucky rest his weight against him, suddenly exhausted by the events of the day. They stay like that as the fireworks crescendo into their finale, bright and beautiful against the sky. He blinks a few times when it’s over, his eyes adjusting to the darkness again.

Clint nudges him, gesturing over to where Steve and Nat are sitting. He looks over just in time to see Steve press a tentative kiss to the top of Nat’s head, his arm wrapped around her waist. He can see her indulgent smile as he looks up at Steve after, kissing his cheek. Steve looks away quickly, almost certainly blushing.

Bucky lets go of Bucky and digs into his pockets to pull out his hearing aids case, fitting them back in his ears. “She’s going to eat him alive, you know.” 

Bucky grins at him, his eyes still a little watery. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Clint laughs and then settles into a soft smile that’s just a little sad around the edges. He leans in and kisses Bucky’s nose. “I’m so glad you made it back. I’m so glad I get to love you.”

Bucky has to swallow hard to resist the urge to cry again at that. His voice is low when he says, “I’m glad I get to love you, too.”

They sit in the quiet moment for a little, giving it the solemnity it deserves. Then, Clint pokes Bucky in the side and Bucky swats his hand lightly.

“You owe me five bucks, by the way,” Clint says.

“What?” Bucky says, indignant. “You own _me_ five bucks! I was the one who bet Steve would make a move.”

“No,” Clint says, shaking his head as he stands up. He stretches and Bucky is momentarily distracted by the sliver of skin at his waistband as his shirt rides up. He looks back at Clint’s face and Clint winks at him. “You bet he would put an arm around her shoulder. He put it around her waist.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, flopping back on the blanket dramatically. “Oh, for the love of…”

“I don’t make the rules, babe. I just abide by them.” Clint says.

Bucky covers his face with his palm, his voice slightly muffled as he says, “Did I say I loved you? Because I actually meant that I hate you.”

“You can do both. You’re a very talented multitasker.” Bucky doesn’t have to look at him to know that Clint is leering at him in a way that should be creepy, but instead is cute. “You still owe me five bucks though.”

Bucky moves his hand so he can see Clint. “How ‘bout I buy you a slice instead?”

Clint pretends to ponder it for a minute before reaching a hand down to Bucky. “Deal.”

Clint pulls him up to his feet and Bucky gives him a kiss for his troubles. 

“Now let’s go help Nat torment Steve.”

Bucky grins. “Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> come visit me on tumblr @tintedglasses


End file.
